BLAST-OFF BUZZARD: Another Time, Another Place
by Generation X-er
Summary: Blast-Off Buzzard and Crazylegs meet their Warner Bros. counterparts


BLAST-OFF BUZZARD  
  
Another Time, Another Place  
  
One early morning in the Southwest American deserts of the Hanna- Barbera cartoon world, Crazylegs, the racing desert snake got up early. He popped his head out of his hole in the ground and yawned, flexing his muscles along his supple length. It was a beautiful, clear day. The air was fresh and clean-a perfect morning for speed racing. Hah! That was an idea, Crazylegs thought to himself. Why didn't they enter him in the Wacky Races? He could run rings around the Ant-hill Mob, Rufus Roughcut and Sawtooth, and all the others! But Crazylegs wasn't really very competitive. Never mind he was the fastest critter HB had ever dreamed up. Mostly, he just enjoyed the freedom of the road, seeing how very fast he could go. He loved the feel of the fierce desert wind as it rushed past him, while he pushed seventy-five miles per hour. He loved the excitement of traveling at breakneck speed, which is why he wore his new green crash-helmet at all times. It didn't even bother him that his constant nemesis, Blast-Off Buzzard, made frequent attempts to snatch him—after all, having a nemesis made the risks all the more…risky.  
  
And at that precise moment, as craylegs prepared for a morning zip, the snake's every move was being surveyed by Blast-Off himself . The 'ol buzzard was perched on a cactus not far away, peering through his binoculars. "This time I've got that delicious, high-speed breakfast for good!" Blast-Off to himself.  
  
As razylegs streaked off in the morning sunlight, the buzzard flapped off the cactus, and landed behind a large boulder. Here he had hidden a special heat-seeking missile he had ordered from….whatever company filled the role of Acme in the HB world. Chortling with fiendish glee, Blast-Off punched the "launch" button. The missile blasted off. It shot high into the blue, cloudless sky going up, then swerving as it focused on its target. The missile began bleeping, then began its lethal decent. Crazylegs was now traveling at high velocity, generating much heat. The missile zoomed in on the seemingly hapless snake. A shadow fell over him, and he looked up in sudden fright, to see a huge missile about to clobber him. But as soon as the missile was in a few feet of its target, it swerved dramatically, and zommed back directly from whence it came—straight for Blast-Off. The Buzzard took off in fright, but he wasn't fast enough. As he looked back to see the missile's decent, he saw a flashing sign above the nose of the missile. It read: SNAKES ARE COLD-BLOODED—BUT BIRDS AREN'T!  
  
Blast-Off pulled himself up in the air just in time, as a last minute self-preservation, as the missile passed beneath him. But as missile smashed into the ground and exploded Blast-Off was thrown clear, all his blue-and purplish feathered torn off him.  
  
After an hour of gathering up and repasting his feathers, Blast-Off moved on to Plan B for today. Plan B involved a huge sling-shot he had whittled out of desert wood, and a thick rubber-band-like catapolt. Blast- Off positioned himself in the sling, and waited for his quarry to come zipping past. He saw Crazylegs approaching in the distance, raising a stirring dust-cloud in his wake, and he stretched the band back as far as it would extend. When the snake raced past him, Blast-Off let loose and the band sent him flying---and fast. Flying through the air, Blast-Off could see Crazylegs directly below him. He extended his claws to pounce, raptor- like on long-elusive prey. But just at that precise moment, he smacked hard into a huge Billboard sign that read: FUDDY'S DUDE RANCH: THE BEST IN THE WEST. Stunned, Blast-Off slid slowly down the sign as Crazylegs streaked away to freedom.  
  
But by the time Blast-off had recovered his senses, a mail truck drove up and stopped by the side of the road. The postman, a blue hound-dog named Huckleberry stuck his head out. "Howdy, good feller. Package for Blast-Off Buzzard."  
  
Blast-Off remembered. He had ordered this package months ago. Finally it had arrived. He held out his wings.  
  
"It's in the back, feller. Why doncha just go on back there, 'an I'll toss it out." Blast-Off went around to the rear of the mail truck. The rear doors flew open, and a mammoth crate flew out and fell directly on top of the hapless buzzard.  
  
"Aloha, 'an see ya 'round, buddy." Said the postman as he zoomed off.  
  
Blast-Off squeezed himself out and shook a feathered fist at the retreating mail truck. Then he surveyed the package. Using a crowbar, he pried it open. And there it was. The million-dollar device that was finally going to make a meal of that over-fast snake—a genuine portal to other worlds! With this machine, he could visit other, parallel universes, and explore the entire cartoon multiverse! But that didn't interest Blast-Off in the least. All he wanted was a decent meal. And he would get it wit this ingenious device. First, he would trick that that bothersome serpent into streaking into the gateway into an alien world. Then, once Crazylegs realized his error, he's come streaking back home as fast as he could—and that's when Blast-Off would grab him! Oh, that smug snake was doomed this time! Blast-Off almost hated himself….but not quite.  
  
First he turned the machine on. The huge portal showed no picture—only a series a jagged orange and red lines. He adjusted the dial on the machine to what was the nearest parallel universe. The portal now became clear. To Blast –Off's surprise it appeared to show no alien landscape at all. In fact, the scene depicted a desert under a powder-blue sky, with a fringe of terraced cliffs in the background.  
  
Then he noticed something.  
  
There was a billboard visible within the portal, exactly where the billboard was that he had recently crashed into. But it wasn't the same. Instead of an advertisement for Fuddy's Dude Ranch, it depicted a slyly smiling black duck in a fedora hat, peddling some kind of miracle lotion.  
  
Oh, well. Since this other world looked so much the same, Crazylegs was all the more liable to be fooled.  
  
Blast-Off positioned the machine near the side of the road, where the snake was likely to come zipping by. Before long, that's just what happened. Crazylegs was totally unfazed by the portal, since the land beyond just looked like a continuation of the road and desert. He whooshed through, leaving a rising dust cloud in his wake.  
  
Blast-Off watched him until he disappeared on the far horizon of the other world. It seemed the snake had no clue where he was, that he was a universe away from home. Well, that just showed Crazylegs wasn't very bright. Blast-Off sneered and flew into the portal, rising rapidly on thermal air layers as he raced to catch up with his meal. At last he closed the distance between them. He dove toward the snake. But Crazylegs saw the lurking shadow above and shifted into high gear. He streaked way at incredible spped, as Blast-Off crashed into the ground with stunning force.  
  
Blast-Off got up and shook his head to clear it. Once more that blasted desert-worm had gotten away, but next time….  
  
It was then that he noticed something stranger on the horizon. In the distance traveling at high speed in same direction that he and Crazylegs had been traveling were two forms. He could not make either of them out very clearly, but it was clear that the one was pursuing the other.  
  
Curious, Blast-Off flew in the direction of the two forms. As he neared them, it became clear that the one being pursued was an odd bird of some sort. It resembled a long-legged form of cuckoo with a blue feathers, a long tail, and an odd purple plume on it shead. The bird was traveling at incredible speed, speed that Blast-Off had seen matched in his own world only by Crazylegs. And the pursuer looked like a wolf (or was it a coyote?), not unlike Mildew or Wilfred, pursuing the speeding bird in some kind of high-tech device. It consisted of a rocket jet-pack and a pair of mechanical wings. The wolf slurped greedily as it neared the fleeing bird, then made to grab him.  
  
But the bird seemed unconcerned for his own safety. He did nothing until the wolf was set to grab him, then looked back, an expression of insufferable smugness on his face. "Meep-meep!" bleated the bird, in mockery of his overconfident pursuer, flickering his tongue. Then the bird shirted into high-gear, much as Crazylegs had done. He streaked off down the highway, as the hapless wopld crashed into the cliff-face. The poor fellow was squashed flat, but the engines on the jet pack were still roaring.  
  
Then they exploded, and the poor wolf crashed to the ground his furr blacked and charred, the machine parts littering the desert around him.  
  
At once, Blast-Off felt a kind of strange kinship with this hapless pursuer—it was like he was seeing himself as a mirror image. He flapped down beside the defeated wolf. Though Blast-Off certainly wanted to express this sympathies for this fellow sufferer, he also could not restrain himself from gloating slightly. After all, here at last was someone who took at least as much punishment as he did! Blast-Off opened his beak and laughed at the stricken wolf harshly.  
  
The wolf glared at Blast-Off for an instant. But then his eyes became wide with what seemed like amazed realization. The wolf got up, dusted the blackness his tarnished fur, and smiled at Blast-Off. An honest, friendly smile, that caused the buzzard to cease his guffawing.  
  
"Greetings my dear fellow! Allow me to introduce myself," said the wolf. "My name is Wile E. Coyote, Super-Genius." He displayed a small ID card to prove it. Blastoff scratched his head, slightly embarrassed that he'd been calling this fellow a wolf. "And you, my dear fellow, appear to be in need of some assistance. As you may have witnessed just now, I an currently in pursuit of swift-footed, feeble-minded culinary feast known as the Roadrunner. And you, my friend must have a similar problem do you not. Are not you, yourself, attempting to procure meal worthy of your intelligence and status?"  
  
Blast-Off agreed that he was, but how did this guy know?  
  
"Don't ask how I know, good chap! I just do. It's part of being a genius!" he put his arm around Blast-Off, and led him away toward his home. "Well, my good man, I propose we join forces, and with both our intellects, perhaps we'll be able to catch both of us lunch!"  
  
Blast-Off nodded in vigorous agreement. He couldn't help it—there was something about this fellow he couldn't help liking. Maybe it was his overconfidence, his zeal as a committed pursuer. Or maybe it was how he picked himself up after another in a series of crushing defeats, ready for another go. Whatever. Something about this guy wasn't all bad.  
  
Meanwhile, a few miles away, Crazylegs had stopped for a drink at a nearby Oasis. As he was gulping the clear, crystalline water, someone traveling at great speed screeched to a halt right beside him. The snake looked up. A tall, slender, ridiculous-looking bird towered above him, looking down with an expression that was at once friendly and curious. Crazylegs looked up at him and smiled back. Like Blast-Off and Wile E., each recognized an odd kinship in the other.  
  
"Meep-meep!" honked the Roadrunner, meaning "Let's race!"  
  
Crazylegs didn't know how he understood this odd-looking bird, but he did, and nodded vigorously. The Roadrunner drank his fill-though not too much—and he and Crazylegs took off down the highway together, racing each other side by side.  
  
They kept it up for miles of winding road, with neither one outdistancing the other, even when they shifted gear. But each was enjoying this immensely. Crazylegs was thrilled to have at last found someone to give him some competition. As for the Roadrunner, not since he had encountered Speedy Gonzolas ages ago had he met anyone that was a match for him.  
  
And not too far distant, crouching behind a boulder, their pursuers watched as the racers approached….Wile E. presented two long oblong boxes. "These," said the coyote with a note of authority, "are super-charged Acme racing skateboards, the newest models. With them, we should at last be able to catch ourselves a most delectable moveable feast. This one is yours."  
  
He gave one package to Blast Off, who greedily tore it open. When they had gone to Wile E."s cave, he had at once sent away for these. They had arrived less then a second after the order was placed! Apparently, the mail was very fast in this world.  
  
They found that the boxes each contained a skateboard with elaborate design and equipment. Blast-Off's board was purple, and Wile E.'s was green. They also came with matching helmets, not unlike the one craylegs wore, but flatter, with a more modern design, one purple, one green, with a shocking pink zigzag stripe. "With these," declared the coyote,"they'll never get away!"  
  
Confidently, they strapped their feet to the boards and strapped on the helmets. The Roadrunner and Crazylegs streaked past. The rocket-powered skates of their pursuers roared to life, and they were off. Wile E, and Blast-Off had smug looks on their faces as they began closing the gap between their intended meals.  
  
Crazylegs and the Roadrunner looked back in alarm, question-marks forming above their heads. Their pursuers were after them once more, this time with yet another new fangled device. But the easy confidence of both of them resumed, as they once more shifted into highgear. But the skates worn by Blast-Off and Wile E. also had speed control and once more they began closing the gap.  
  
The Roadrunner and Crazylegs were having the time of their lives. They were actually getting some exercise out of this, but still they knew they could get away easily. The Roadrunner looked down at Crazylegs and once more voiced his Meep-meep! This time it meant, "I have a plan to throw them off! Just follow me!"  
  
Crazylegs followed the Roadrunner's lead as the zoomed in direction that Crazylegs had come through then portal into this universe. Naturally, their pursuers followed, hungrier then ever now with so much racing. At length the shape of the portal loomed up ahead in the center of the highway. Just in time, the bird and snake swerved, each to one side. Their pursuers were not able to stop in time and were thrown off balance. They careened through the portal into the HB world, where both of them snacked hard into another billboard, this one advertising the Laff-a Lympcs.  
  
As the buzzard and coyote slid slowly off the sign, the Roadrunner and Crazylegs laughed and laughed at them.  
  
But then the Roadrunner's eyes widened as he remembered something: Carzylegs didn't belong in the WB world. He couldn't remain here forever. And since they were both here…..  
  
He looked down at Crazylegs coiled beside him and and beeped once at him meaning "you'd best be going home now. "  
  
But Crazylegs shook his head. He was having too much fun.  
  
Disgruntled, the Roadrunner produced a book from under his wing. It was tilted "Birds of the American Southwest". He flipped through it until he came onto the correct page. Then he showed it to Crazylegs, who began reading in puzzled dismay. The heading showed a bright color photograph of a roadrunner—a real roadrunner not a cartoon one. Underneath the heading it told all about the bird and its habits, including one habit that did nothing to agree with Crazylegs. This stated the roadrunner's favorite food—snakes.  
  
Crazylegs' eyes leaped briefly out of their sockets at this last line. He then zipped through the portal and into the Funtastic World of Hanna Barbera.  
  
The Roadrunner gave one puzzled look to a puzzled audience. Then he held up an explanatory sign which read: WELL, HOW ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO SEND HIM HOME?? 


End file.
